al approval.

When that was done they carried Baumberger's gross physical shell away
up the grade to the station; and the dust of his passing settled upon
the straggling crowd that censured his misdeeds and mourned not at all,
and yet paid tribute to his dead body with lowered voices while they
spoke of him, and with awed silence when the rough box was lowered to
the station platform.

As the sky clears and grows blue and deep and unfathomably peaceful
after a storm, as trees wind-riven straighten and nod graciously to the
little cloud-boats that sail the blue above, and wave dainty finger-tips
of branches in bon voyage, so did the Peaceful Hart ranch, when the
dust had settled after the latest departure and the whistle of the
train--which bore the coroner and that other quiet passenger--came
faintly down over the rim-rock, settle with a sigh of relief into its
old, easy habits of life.

All, that is, save Good Indian himself, and perhaps one other.

. . . . . . . . .

Peaceful cleared his white mustache and beard from a few stray drops of
coffee and let his mild blue eyes travel slowly around the table, from
one tanned young face to another.

"Now the excitement's all over and done with," he drawled in his
half-apologetic tones, "it wouldn't be a bad idea for you boys to get
to work and throw the water back where it belongs. I dunno but what the
garden's spoiled already; but the small fruit can be saved."

"Clark and I was going up to the Injun camp," spoke up Gene. "We wanted
to see--"

"You'll have to do some riding to get there," Good Indian informed them
dryly. "They hit the trail before sunrise this morning."

"Huh! What were YOU doing up there that time of day?" blurted Wally,
eying him sharply.

"Watching the sun rise." His lips smiled over the retort, but his eyes
did not. "I'll lower the water in your milk-house now, Mother Hart," he
promised lightly, "so you won't have to wear rubber-boots when you go to
skim the milk." He gave Evadna a quick, sidelong glance as she came into
the room, and pushed back his chair. "I'll get at it right away," he
said cheerfully, picked up his hat, and went out whistling. Then he put
his head in at the door. "Say," he called, "does anybody know where that
long-handled shovel is?" Again he eyed Evadna without seeming to see her
at all.

"If it isn't down at the stable," said Jack soberly, "or by the
apple-cellar or somewhere around the pond or garden, look along th